Magic
by Attacked By Snakes
Summary: The beggining of it all, and Hogwarts too. ::On Hiatus::
1. Chapter 1

**Magic**

_**Disclaimer: **Whatever elements of J.K. Rowling's appear in this storey is hers. I own only the plot and anything else you don't recognize._

_- SJ_

Prologue

A Lone figure walked along the rocky path; shoulders hunched and his face turned down trying to protect him from the rain pelting down upon him from the dark sky. A flash of lightening seared through the grey clouds and for a split second you could see the figures emerald eyes sparkling dangerously, but it was gone as soon as it had come and everything darkened once again.

The figure stopped in front of a house. It was an ordinary house, looking the same as the other five or six houses in the area. All were made of brick and had straw lining the roofs, a few had smoke rising up out of the roofs, indicating a fire inside.

His hand curled tightly around the handle of the long sword, which was currently sheathed at his side. He called upon his nemesis; he would cleanse the earth of this abomination.

"Come out, heathen!" The figure roared. His voice did not quiver as many others would when they were dealing with the unknown, a perceptive person would have noticed his hands slightly shaking and his white knuckles though.

Nothing happened and the swordsman's anxiety grew. He called once again, "Come out, heathen!" Once again he received no response from whatever was inside the house. This was the only house that did not have smoke puffing out of the roof.

There comes a time in everyone's life where they have to make difficult decisions, this was one of those times for the figure standing outside of the house. He could just leave and tell his master that there was no one home, or he could be courageous and rush into the home to complete his task, this man would learn the fine line between bravery and folly first hand as he decided on the second option. Metal grinded on metal as he drew his sword and walked up to the wooden door, he brought his foot up and swung down towards the door. He never connected. A mysterious force threw him back a good twenty feet; he hit the ground with a sickening thud and rolled a few feet. The swordsman scrambled up and he looked toward the house, his eyes betrayed his fear. There standing in the door way was a dark haired woman, behind her was a boy. She stood with one arm straight out, palm outward and an angry glint in her stormy grey eyes.

No words were said, but both knew what was going to happen next. With a grunt the swordsman positioned himself in a fighting stance; he was fuelled by desperation and fear. The woman muttered something to the boy behind her, obviously her son by the physical attributes they shared. He nodded and stepped back, a look of extreme fear in his eyes. The dark haired woman stood still with her arms resting at her sides. On the outside she looked calm and tranquil, but inside she felt completely different.

Wasting no time, the black robed swordsman rushed forward, sword pointing straight out. The woman brought her hands up and started muttering complicated phrases in a language not known to anyone else. Just before than man had succeeded in separating her head from her shoulders her eyes flickered open and he was thrown back once again, this time not as far as before. She was getting tired, he noticed.

"You're demonic powers are wearing you out, Heathen!" The mad said this triumphantly, his voice laced with laughter. He was sure he would escape unscathed, and collect his reward too. Paying no heed to his jibes, the woman started focusing once again, beads of sweat pouring down her face. An unearthly glow appeared in between her hands, it was small and barely visible, but her opponent noticed it none the less. It grew larger and he knew he wouldn't be able to reach her before she released her power. He gritted his teeth, dug his back foot into the ground and waited for the blast to come. It never did, he glanced up and grinned like a fool. She had passed out from using too much of her power. With a triumphant smile stretching across his face, he walked up to her still body. She wasn't dead, but he'd soon change that. Lifting his sword high above his head, he prepared to swing down, just as the woman's eyes opened a little bit. She stared at him defiantly, but he could sense the fear behind the mask. Just as he was about to swing down, he hard a scream, and all was black. He would never know what had happened to him.

The dark haired boy who had been behind his mother ran up to her still from, and stared into her face through watery eyes.

"Mother!" He said breathily with no small amount of desperation in his voice. The woman could not speak, and she just smiled softly before she closed her eyes and set off on the next adventure, as a wise man would one day say.

The boy rose up and wiped the tears from his eyes. He would have his revenge. With a fierce light in his sky blue eyes he picked up his mothers body as best he could and set her upon her bed in the house. Next, he filled a sack with what little food they had in the house. He opened the hidden box of money that they kept and emptied that into the bag as well. The last thing he took, and the thing that would help him the most was his mother's book. It was a large dusty volume that she had been writing in for a long time. There was only one word written in elegant scrawl across the leather cover it read: "Magic."


	2. My Name Is

**MAGIC**

_**Disclaimer: **Whatever elements of J.K. Rowling's appear in this story is hers. I own only the plot and anything else you don't recognize._

My Name Is…

There were grassy hills rolling as far as the eye could see, the sky was blue without a single cloud and the sun was beaming down upon the green earth. But even the beautiful scenery around him could not change the mood of a certain boy. He had been walking for almost two days now and his thoughts were depressing and gloomy, on top of that he was unbearably hungry. He had taken food with him, but he ate it all within the first day of his travels.

He remembered how difficult it was to get food sometimes back home, but somehow his mother had always at least managed to make at least one meal a day. He wasn't sure how she had accomplished that as he was sure that his mother hadn't hunted, she had only picked berries and vegetables; those were scarce. As he thought back he realized that a number of strange and curious happenings occurred around their home. Broken chairs never stayed broken, candles lasted far longer than they should have and in the winter it never became to cold, even without fires. When he was younger he paid no heed to such things, but as he grew older he wondered, but left it well enough alone.

Once though, he did ask why all these things happened, he was met with a hard stare. It seemed as if she was measuring him up. In the end she responded with, "You are not ready to know yet, when you get older," and he never asked again, though he always wondered. Then he saw it for the first time, that large tome that his mother dared call a book. She had left it on the table one day in the summer and he wasn't yet old enough to read it well enough to know what the cover said. For some reason as he thought to open the book a sense of foreboding entered his mind, and like any sane child, he totally ignored it. Just as he was about to open the cover and see if there were any exciting pictures in it, his mother rushed in, snatched the book from his grasp and set it up high on a old teetering shelf that never once fell over. His mother gave him a cold glare, it was the only time in his life he had received such a harsh look from her and he was terrified. Now, he was a curious child and was always interested in learning new things, although the saying 'curiosity killed the cat' had not been invented yet, it would have been applicable here. He had asked her what was so special about that tome, she never answered clearly and muttered something about not going through what she had gone through. That was the end of it; he never asked any more questions about the odd things that happened around his mother.

His stomach jolted the boy out of his thoughts; it seemed that his belly didn't like being ignored.

"Why, oh why did I eat all my food!" he grumbled as he trekked on over the grassy slopes of his homeland.

Over the next couple hours his steady walk had slowed to a grueling task of dragging his feet, each step seemed like an endless distance. Time dragged and the sun seemed to stay still in the sky. Where the sun had once been spreading warmth and light across the land, it seemed that it was now stabbing him with red-hot knives. He knew he would need to drink something, and soon. Looking around desperately he saw a whole lot of nothing. He tried to groan in frustration but his throat was too dry and all that came out was a dry hacking sound. His eyes started to blur in the corners and his vision grew hazy, everything turned grey. He almost felt his legs shake before finally giving out; he was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

"Wake UP!" Screamed an obviously frustrated voice, although he knew it was loud he couldn't hear it very well. The voice screamed again, this time it cut through the darkness and he saw a blurry… something right in front of his face. It slowly cleared up and he could make out eyes. 'Eyes?' he thought, then it connected and he jumped up in fright, successfully smashing his already aching head into someone else's face.

"Ouch!" Yelped the still slightly blurry figure as it jumped back. He had rolled onto his knees and was holding his nose in one hand, a small trickle of bloody flowed slowly from between his fingers. His other hand was flat on the ground, holding him up.

"What did you do THAT for?" Shouted the unknown person in complete surprise, he could now tell that the voice sounded like that of a little girls.

"Uh, sorry," was the best he could come up with at the time, he was more focused on his bloody nose at the moment anyway. Still holding his nose he looked up at the person he'd knocked over in his surprise. She was smaller than he; she looked to be around seven and had bright blonde hair with large green eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked curiously.

"I'm Harwena Hufflepuff!" The child said brightly, "Who're you?" an inquisitive glint shone in her eyes, but the happy sparkle stayed.

Now he had a problem, for some reason his gut was telling him not to give away any information about himself. Someone was after his mother, though he didn't know why, and family names could be traced easily enough. He decided to make up a name for himself; he racked his mind but drew a blank. The little girl just stared up at him, smiling. He wasn't sure what it was, but something inside him made him blurt out a new name for himself, a name that would change his life and the lives of many others.

"I'm Merlin." He said, thoughtfully.

"Merlin? That's a funny name!" For what seemed to the boy, now Merlin, no apparent reason, she had shouted this. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, the first real smile he'd smiled in what seemed like a long time. The girl's exuberance was refreshing to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but his stomach beat him to it and growled loudly, he smiled sheepishly as the girl laughed.

"Follow me, I'll l give you some food!" The girl replied to Merlin's stomach. With that she started skipping down the path he had been walking along, "It's not far, come along!" Using what was undoubtedly the last of his strength he followed her, trying his hardest to keep up with her.

After what seemed like a long while Merlin heard the most welcoming sound he had ever heard: the sound or a stream murmuring not far away. With renewed vigor he picked up his pace and soon came upon a glorious stream of crystal clear water. At least that's how it looked to him; in reality it was slightly muddy and no wider than he was tall.

"Here we-" whatever the girl was about to say was cut off by the sound of a young boy thrusting his face into the stream. The girl watched in distaste, "Well, That was rude!" she harrumphed. She herself walked toward the water, picked up her skirts and cupped the water in her hand to drink. After tasting it she frowned, she didn't try any more.

The only reason Merlin pulled his head out of the delicious 'blue' liquid was for the need to breathe, it had almost slipped his mind. Grinning like a fool while his soaking hair stuck to his forehead he looked over to the girl.

"Thanks" He smiled.

"Yup!" She responded happily, "now you have to tell me why you were walking around with no food? Seems like a silly thing to do to me." Said the little girl, she had tried to sound somber and condescending, but with her bright blonde curls, she just couldn't look serious.

For some odd reason Merlin felt compelled to tell her why he was journeying, but once again his stomach interrupted.

"Is there any food around here? I promise I'll tell you all about it after I get some food in me!" Merlin asked hopefully. The girl's smile increased, if possible and she nodded vigorously and pointed toward the setting sun.

"Yup, follow me, my home isn't far away and there's plenty of food there!" Armed with a thousand watt smile and a skip in her step she bounced off in the direction she had pointed to. Sighing, but still happy he followed her.

After traveling a short while he saw smoke rising from beyond a hill, thinking that it must be from the village, he quickened hi pace. The girl who had been walking beside him noticed and started running.

"Race ya!" And even before she had finished challenging him she was over the hill and out of sight. With a small laugh Merlin continued walking and before long came upon the makeshift entrance to the village, Harwena was laying on the ground breathing heavily. He looked at the village, it wasn't much different to the one he had lived in, and actually it looked much the same with the small number of houses built with their wooden doors facing inwards toward each other. Looking back down at the girl he smiled and held out his hand to help her up.

"Come on, I'm famished.


End file.
